


The Song Is You

by reincarnationofalovebird



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: (not that it didn't have it before), Alternate Universe, Cosima is Super Queer let's be real, F/F, Jazz - Freeform, Jazz AU, cophine - Freeform, now with period accurate music!, ob fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1661564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reincarnationofalovebird/pseuds/reincarnationofalovebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cophine. 1940s Jazz AU. What more could you ever want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to sundialsandsmiles for meticulously reading this over with me! :D

She’s just  _standing there_  on the very tip of the stage, toes hanging over the edge in her scuffed leather oxfords, beat up tenor sax case clutched in her right and a gig bag in her left. Her suit jacket drapes casually around her shoulders, hanging on by the bony ridges at the top of her arms. But without arms occupying her sleeves, she’s probably been a sight to be seen. Forget it, though.

 

She can finally be who she wants to be.

 

_A breath in for 4, exhale for 8. Keep going, dude._

 

At this point in her career, she just  _knows_  when it’s going be a good gig, and when it isn’t going to be. Tonight’s definitely going to be an enjoyable set, judging not only by the eager anticipation that jives through her veins, but also from the excitement flickering out from the people flowing in. Watching the people stream through the front door is one of her favorite things to do, especially when they have this assortment of characters happily ambling in. She’s already seen a clownish boy with gangly legs, and a pack of men in highly tailored zoot suits similar to hers. The best of all in the crowd is an elegant blonde girl with large doe eyes, long limbs and graceful fingers that flick and roll restlessly at her side.

 

She seems innately familiar to Cosima, a feeling that roils under her shoulder blades and dances weaving rhythms through her brain, but she can’t quite place her.

 

_Let it go, Cosi. You’re here to play, to beat out the big boys and show ‘em what you’re worth- far more than any of those damn fools coulda imagined._

 

First time she tried joining in a jam was a bitter memory. She’d stepped in, tiny frame heaving a case that was nearly larger than she was, and the boys in there had laughed her clear out of the club. Her peculiar looks- wire-rimmed spectacles and barely tameable chestnut hair- probably didn’t help her much though. It took her a while to work up her chops, build them enough to convince herself she was finally good enough to play with them. She went again to that same place downtown about half a year later, obscured by her father’s too-large hat and tired bomber jacket. Boy, had she showed them then. She had slid into the club, all slouching stance and confident poise to immerse herself in the smoky shadows of an environment that endeared itself to her. Only after a few sets, once it’d all ramped up, had she jumped in and blown them all away.

 

Man, those were the times. Everyone was jiving and swingin’ and having a swell time, and here she is, after years and years of hard-ass practice, being rewarded with her own gigs and combo, and- hopefully in the future- a girl or guy of her own.

 

War might be going on, but hey- she’s standing here with her horn in hand, nearly ready to play and have the time of her life. Behind her onstage the jumping clank and twang of  piano and bass warming up helps to ease her tension for the night, and an experimental roll of her shoulders sets her mind in gear, and she’s already forming complex mental melodies around rapid chord changes that float casually through her brain as she prepares.

 

A shout from behind her jolts her out of her music induced daze and she whirls around to face her bassist standing there expectantly, tapping a leather clad foot in time to the beat that thrums in the background.

 

“Oi, Cosi! Are you ready t’ play, or not?” Gritted teeth slide words along the edge of a cigar pursed between chapped lips. There’s the one and only Sarah Manning with her lips curving up in what Cosima can only assume is a smile, and Cosima grins widely right back at her. She’s got what has to be the only Brit upright player in all of America in her band, and along with Ali Hendrix from good ol’ New York on drums, they’re going to swing it so hard the house is gonna bop along with them. She’s not quite sure who the pianist is, even though she’s played with them before -  _some girl named Rachel Duncan or other?_  - but she didn’t want to commit to them, and honestly, Cosima didn’t really want her to commit either.

 

“I’m always ready to play, Manning! Always ready to play, always stoked to play.”

 

“Naturally, tha’s what I thought,” Sarah mutters. She turns on her heel and started striding back to her bass.  “Downbeat in 10, Cosi!” is her call over her shoulder as she walks away.

 

Cosima’s grin spread even wider, and she steps over to the side of the piano and lovingly sets down her case, the pads of its worn feet thunking down hard against the splintery floorboards of the stage. She flicks open the latches, humming the opening bars of  _Take the A Train_  as she sticks her cane reed into her mouth and starts piecing together the various parts of her tenor sax.

 

She’s played many horns in her lifetime, but this tenor is her baby. She fought with it for  _ages_ when she first got it, but once she finally figured out her perfect kit and tamed the beast of a horn she owned, it was true love.

 

Once she’s done setting up, she loops the neck strap around and hooks her horn onto it and plays a few bursts of sound. It’s nothing incredible, but it dims the noise that bounces around the interior of the rooms. In the corner of her vision, she can just barely see the girl from before level her gaze at her steadily, and it makes her all the more excited to play this gig. She’s going to show her  _just_ how good she is, like she showed those jerks at her first jam.

 

Another roll of her shoulders bounces the horn a bit from where it hangs around her neck, and now that she’s loose and warmed up, she’s ready to play. Puffing up to her outstandingly tall height of five foot three, Cosima claps her hands and waves them in the air, catching the attention of every soul in the room. The club is now jammed full of people, their shadows illuminated by red-blue-purple light hazed with tendrils of smoke floating gently up to the ceiling.

 

“Uh, ‘scuse me? Hey, ladies and gents! I’m Cosima Niehaus, and this is Sarah Manning on bass, Ali Hendrix on kit, and Rachel Duncan sittin’ in on piano. We’re gonna start off with a lil’ song you might know. Here we go with Duke Ellington’s great tune!”

 

Snapping her fingers at a moderate tempo, Cosima counts off while Ali starts a swing ride groove in time, kicking the bass drum with a smooth snap of her ankle. Taking in a massive lungful of air, Cosima starts the opening lick of  _Take the A Train_ , and the haze of the room slowly starts to fade away, sharpening into the brilliant technicolor shapes of the sound that flow effortlessly from her horn and the other musicians around her.

 

\----

After, when she’s just finished packing her horn into its case, and she’s so dead tired she wants to flop over from the exhaustion, a voice rings through her muddled consciousness to where she’s kneeling on the side of the stage.

 

"You're Cosima Niehaus, yes? The famous tenor saxophonist?"

 

The voice is above Cosima’s line of sight and it forces her to look up, so she jerks her head up, glancing briefly at the long legs that are leaning gently against the back of her case, causing it to tilt slightly forward. She stands up hurriedly, skimming her eyes up and down the girl’s body, sleepily examining her as she straightens and stretches a little.

 

She says  _famous_  like  _fay-moose_ , and almost instantly she’s front and center in Cosima’s attention span, which is undeniably short for most things unrelated to jazz. Jazz is what makes her life bop and jive along like it does and she definitely loves it, just like she’s quickly coming to like this girl -  _oh God, no, Cosi, she’s not a girl_ - this  _woman_ standing before her.

 

_Hey, it’s that mysteriously beautiful gal from before- wait._

 

Shit. Delphine Cormier, the one and only. The most desirable jazz pianist in America since Duke Ellington himself.

 

Any trace of moisture that had previously been in her mouth evaporates immediately at the gorgeous blonde before her, and her brain kicks back into gear.

 

"You're fine, doll. Has anyone told you that before?" Cosima’s mouth opens and the words pour out, just as genuinely as her tunes do. Mentally, Cosima smacks herself upside the head and makes a note to stop being so nervous around beautiful girls.

 

Delphine only quirks an eyebrow and continues on, seemingly unfazed by Cosima's lack of subtlety. "Well. I hear you're very good, Cos-i-ma."  

 

"Then you've heard just right! They tell me I'm good, anyways. I wouldn't be any better than any other average Jill without my band, though. A swingin’ rhythm section is the only reason I'm anywhere near where I've come now. I could always use a piano playa’, though." She shrugs, a smooth jump of shoulders stilling her restless hands for once.

 

_Be slick, be smooth, and you've got her in the bag, Niehaus._

 

“But… do you not already have a pianist? Who is that girl, then?”

 

“Ah, Rachel? She’s a snooty broad, don’t need her. Besides, she’s inconsistent and definitely doesn’t wanna commit.” She finishes off her statement with a wide smile, her tongue poking against the back of her teeth sweetly.

 

“Are… are you trying for something, Cosima? You’re a-  erhm, I hate to use this foul word, but it is as the men in my band say it- a  _dy-ke_? They say you’re… fruity? Queer?”

 

_Oh dang, you better ease up on this. She’s on to ya, but you gotta keep your cool or nothing’s gonna happen your way._

 

“It’s not quite like that, hun. See, I swing both ways. I mean- ah shit. I play swing, bebop, West Coast, bossa- you name it, I gotcha, babe.”

 

“…So I see. Alright then, Cos-i-ma, I’ll see you around then. We shall see about playing together, perhaps.”

 

With a flick of those talented fingers in a half-moon wave and the swish of those hips that sway along with the maroon hem of her precisely tailored dress–  _Dear lord, what a **doll**_  – Delphine Cormier goes off to her first gig of the night.

 

Needless to say, Cosima’s pleasantly dumbfounded.  _Well, at least that wasn’t a no for either request._ Now she’s determined to hear Delphine play live, and hopefully in the future- if she’s really worth her salt - get her to join the band.

 

For now though, all she can do is pour herself into her music, and hope that Delphine receives her lyrical message.

 

 

 


	2. All of You (Now's the Time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosima goes for a walk.

Cosima wakes up the next day in a tangle of limbs and linen, sweaty and red faced with Delphine on her mind.  It was apparent she had fallen asleep immediately after she had returned home to her battered flat that she shared with her band mates; her battered leather shoes were still half on, laces in a knotted embrace with each other, and though her suspenders were unhooked and hugging her waist, they were still wrapped through her belt loops. Her arm is numb and fuzzy from being slept on, and grainy sensation warps roughly through her sleepy limbs.

 

Groaning, she sits up and rolls her shoulders, tilting her head from shoulder to shoulder to stretch out her tense muscles.  Cosima knows she’s strong, but still, holding a nine pound tenor sax around her neck for hours at a time is still _killer_ on any reasonable human being, let alone a petite woman with a hell of a lot of practice. Flopping back onto her tousled bed, she rolls over to check the time- _11:27AM_ reads in blurry analog from her Mickey Mouse thrift store alarm clock – and she resignedly sits up, changes quickly, and pads out into the main room and kitchen to where she can hear Sarah laughing obnoxiously loud with their manager and flat mate, Felix.

 

“And so I told him to fuck off! Seriously, Rachel can hold her own _some_ of the bloody time, why do I- ay, look who’s finally awake! Have good dreams of blondie, dyke?” Sarah wiggles her eyebrows teasingly and roars with laughter with Felix at Cosima, who simply rolls her eyes and continues on to the kitchen.

“Yeah, I did! I’m still getting more game than you fucking are, and ‘sides – who are _you_ to call _me_ the queer of the family, huh? What about Felix? We all know you’ve got the hots for Rachel, huh Sarah?” she yells back at Sarah above the clatter of pots and cabinets banging together in her carelessness.  No response comes from Sarah or Felix, so she assumes she wins this round. She slams a cabinet door shut victoriously, wincing when the metal hinges whine on their screws from moving too quickly.

 

Stepping back towards the sink with her hips swaying in wide arcs, she swings around to fill a mug from the half-full coffee pot and bangs into the edge of the countertop, letting loose a few choice words. It’s rather a good thing that she’s _definitely_ not quite yet awake, or she would have a few more words for Sarah and Felix too.  Cussing and wrapping her left hand across and around to her injured hip – _That’s sure to leave a bruise later, dammit_ \- Cosima raises her chipped cup to her chapped lips and glances around the cozy living space she shares with her fellow band members.

 

Sun streams in through somewhat grimy windows, painting dappled swipes across the wooden table in the middle of the small room, and a general hum sounds through the entire apartment; the chatter of cars streaking up and down the main streets fight with the needle vibing on the record from the adjacent room, and Cosima’s drawn with a fighting desire to see Delphine again, to hear her _play_ this time. She’s incredibly good, anyone worth their jazz salt knows that. Unfortunately, Sarah and Alison had picked up immediately on Cosima’s little gay crush, and set out the single record of Delphine playing jazz standards on the turntable to play in the background, and left not too soon after that.

 

 _Assholes,_ Cosima thought fondly.

 

 _They always know what to do for me._  

 

* * *

 

 

It literally hits her one day, a beautiful roaring day that runs an ache through Cosima’s bones to be outside in the warmth, to feel the sweet tendrils of sun bloom across her cheeks, to smell sweet air that melts the tension from her mind the moment she pushes through their rickety rainbow painted door – _of course, Felix wants the entire neighborhood to know that our entire place is jammed with homosexuals_ \- and swaggers down the front steps.  None of them are exclusive to that term, unfortunately, so the rainbow door only speaks the truth. She sighs and squints into the light, blinking a few times to clear her head from the sudden shift in lighting – _it’s Sarah’s turn to pay the bills this month, right?_ – and ambles down the brick steps onto the sidewalk, tilting her head this way and that as she examines her surroundings.

 

She doesn’t actually get out as much as she would like, at least during the day.  The wonderful thing about being out during the sunshine hours is that there are _civilized_ people outside, and like– _Whoa, I can actually see things. I know, like, new glasses_ totally _help, but whoa. Has… that dude been living in our front yard the entire time?_ Cosima turns on her heel and peers curiously at him, craning her neck in a lazy attempt to get a better view of the ragged man lying in the grass, but decides it’s not worth her time right now. _Alison will deal with him later_ , she thinks amusedly, shrugging easily and turning back around, continuing on down the sidewalk.

 

Anything that happens can’t wreck the fabulous mood she’s in now. Birds chirp excitedly in lazy overhangs of oak and bay, twigs cracking cheerfully underfoot in rhythm with the scrape of faded leaves against the sidewalk. She walks down the street in a late autumn daze, snapping her fingers in time to a melody that rollicks through her skull, bounces off the inner walls, and creaks out through her mouth, and soon she’s singing along to that one lick from last night, Delphine forgotten momentarily for sake of a tune.

 

In a stupor of _excellent_ jazz and blindingly glorious auburn light, Cosima decides to jaywalk across the street to the small park with the beautiful bronze gate, its doors swung open wide and inviting. She crosses in long lazy strides, stretching her short legs as far as she can in her casual lope. Today is a day without care, a fabulous occasion for Cosima to relax, regain her composure, and consider the future. Almost across, and though there are a few cars that whiz through, they’re going the other way and she deems herself pretty safe.

 

Surprisingly, she doesn’t kill herself walking across the street. It might have been totally empty when she crossed, but like, knowing her track record – far from sparkling, she can verify – she probably shouldn’t have risked it in the first place. Cosima tilts her head up toward the sun, soaking in the amber light as it washes over her cheeks through the wispy clouds overhead. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, expanding her lungs in a measured attempt to fulfill her maximum capacity of zen, and exhales calmly.

_A breath in for 4, exhale for 8. Keep going, dude. Can’t wreck this now, can we?_

Cosima is in a _zone_ , and thus totally fails to see the woman on a bike making her way down the sidewalk to her left, yelling hoarsely. “Move! _Arrêter!_ Get the _hell_ out of the way!” It’s too late when she does finally notice, and her eyes widen and _oh_ -

 

She’s spread eagle on the sidewalk, once again cursing her luck and the half broken glasses on the edge of her nose. She should have known pushing her luck wasn’t going to work this time, especially as being hit by a bike doesn’t really leave any room or leeway for fucking up.  The other person who Cosima presumes, hit her, is already up and kneeling back on her haunches, muttering angrily to herself and wiping both grit and sticky, discarded bubble gum from her scraped palms.  Not too far from this woman, who has a _fantastic_ head of blonde curled hair with lovely Hepcat sunglasses perched upon the mass, is what Cosima assumes is her bike, on its back as well. Its wheels spin aimlessly in continuous circles, spokes twirling metallic winks to the rhythm of sun poking through the leaves overhead. Papers flutter around, mimicking the leaves falling, falling, falling all around them in the late autumn breeze. Even from her splayed angle on the ground – _I should really get up eventually and help her_ \- Cosima can see tiny droplets of crimson blooming in dewy streaks on beautiful hands with elegant fingers, and she feels even worse that she’s injured this lovely woman, on top of possibly ruining her- _sheet music?_

 

“Oh christ, I’m _so_ sorry babe.” Cosima finally scrambles to her feet, pushing herself up in a surprising burst of coordination, tanned skin and muscles flexing impressively under her rolled-up plaid sleeves, cuffed at the elbows. Together, they shuffle awkwardly around to gather the papers on the sidewalk, still balancing on the balls of their feet to duck walk in weird flexion of thigh and calf muscles. The woman’s sunglasses slide off her head in her attempts to pick the papers up, and Cosima swiftly scoops those up too.

 

Cosima hugs the recollected papers in her battered arms, glancing at the notes laid out in neat, obviously meticulous print. It’s inked on the staff paper with a certain precise care Cosima can relate to, and _whoa – some of these licks are_ incredible, Cosima soon realizes, and shuffles through them, attempting to put them back in some semblance of order for this lovely, talented lady whom she clearly owes.  

They both glance up around the same time, catching the other’s eyes, and Cosima thrusts the papers out in a jerk of elbow and joints, snapping muscles taut, tense, and cheerful as she realizes who the papers belong to.

“Dude, Delphine, I am _so_ sorry. I totally zoned out and like, got into a headspace where only jazz and I existed, and… yeah.” she finishes with an embarrassed grin, sheepishly tucking her chin into her chest and pulling her hand up to stroke her hair nervously.

“It’s alright, I am fine now, Cos-i-ma. I, euh. Zoned out? _Headspace_?” Delphine questions her, cocking her head to the left with a quirked eyebrow, not quite comprehending Cosima’s use of language.

_Ah shit. When her head moves, so does her hair, and like,_ whoa _. That’s… really cute._

 

Cosima flaps her hands in rapid, fluid zigs and shakes her head in zags with a giggle, trying to shake it off and explain it simultaneously, and then they’re both giggling at Cosima, chuckling _with_ each other. It’s a pleasant moment, one that makes up for the incident, but still- Cosima feels bad. She totally knocked this woman over by being a jazz obsessed idiot, and Cosima feels an internal want, no, _need_ to make it up to Delphine. She steps forward with sunglasses, which she is _still_ holding, for some reason, and tiptoes up to slide them onto Delphine’s head, and they lodge there between two untamed locks.  Cosima steps back down with a soft smile, and then Delphine’s eyes are smiling at her too.

 

She’s painfully falling for Delphine, the sort of trip where once she gets started, the momentum of her foolishness drags her down and under the swell of attraction, and sweeps her through the tide of love, only to wash up on the shore with an ache within her.

 

“Sorry, again. I’m just a total klutz, seriously, and I just can’t help-” she starts again, gesticulating wildly. Delphine stands there, biting her lip trying to contain her amusement and slants her weight all the way to her left, jutting her hip out in a stance that is entirely too endearing to Cosima.

 

“Cosima. _Cos-i-ma_. Stop apologizing, it is alright. I’ve heard too many good things about you for something so silly as knocking me over on my bicycle to really matter.” Delphine stops for a moment and smirks slowly, her grin eating up her cheeks as they spread. “You are very sweet, Cos-i-ma.” Delphine’s compliment ignites a rosy blush across Cosima’s cheeks, and she tucks her chin into her chest sheepishly once again. “I try,” she mutters back.

_Damn, you’re fallin’ for her so hard. Get your head out of the clouds, Cosi. She’s straight- right?_

 

Delphine chuckles at her embarrassment, obviously pleased by Cosima’s response.

 

“Cosima, since I, ah, _ran into you_ , I might as well ask you now, rather than send a letter as I was meaning to do. I’ve been thinking, would you like to come to one of my performances soon? Perhaps come and _jam_ with me, as you Americans say?”

 

Cosima is dumbfounded by Delphine’s request. _Me? Play jazz with her? Your life is starting to look up, and it’s looking fine as_ hell _.  This is a step in all the right directions._

“I, uh, yeah! I’d love to come and _jam_ with you, Delphine. Spoilers, though, I did take a peek- your charts are _killer_. Your musicianship is, well… Quite frankly, you’re a freakin’ genius!” She finishes with a gesture similar to a defeated shrug, and now Delphine turns a slight shade of red. “Ah, thank you Cos-i-ma, you’re very kind. I will let you know of the timing very soon. Perhaps you have a phone number where I could maybe reach you?”  They exchange contact details, and Cosima blurts, “It’s a date, then!” and curses her big mouth for ever letting a single word escape. 

 

 _God fuckin’ dammit, Cosi, you just_ had _to blow it and-_

 

Delphine’s lips stretch even further, and Cosima is intoxicated, drunken under the allure of that smile. “Mmph. See you around, Cos-i-ma.”

 

She turns and saunters back towards her bike, tucking the piano scores into her leather satchel as she goes. In the space of their conversation they’ve gravitated away from it and more towards the open green of the park, closer and closer to the unlocked gates of the expansive park. Cosima stares off through the gates at the pigeons lazily plucking at the ground, the time-worn oak trunks that loosely scatter the perimeters and lawns. She lapses in attention again, and Delphine’s already slinging her tanned bag over her shoulder and about to mount her _really nice_ bike. _Shit Cosi, where are your manners?_

 

“Wait, Delphine, your hands and stuff! Are you going to be alright, we could go back to my place and bandage them or somethin’, I totally understand your hands are like, really important to your playin’ and…” Cosima’s train of thought trails off as Delphine pulls her red Hepcat glasses off of her mass of glorious blonde hair and slides them onto the bridge of her nose, shifting as her cheeks push up the edges of the luminescent frames. “I will be alright, I am not too far. So long for now, Cos-i-ma!” She swings a long leg over the frame of her white street cycle and pushes off elegantly, waving with one hand at Cosima as she goes.

Cosima waves back feebly, wiggling her fingers in defeat. She desperately needs to clear her head now. There are some new licks, Delphine-inspired licks, that are streaming through her brain that need to be cleaned up.

 

_Damn, Cosi. You’re completely, totally, and utterly screwed._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hit me a little while ago. Literally. I was swimming and ran into the wall, I hope you all appreciate my sacrifice for this fic HAH.  
> Reviews! Kudos! Comments! All are appreciated!


	3. Autumn Leaves (Don't Get Around Much Anymore)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosima almost breaks a plate, among other more important things.   
> huge thanks to sundialsandsmiles for making sure this wasn't shitty!

The first few steps Cosima takes into the park are a dazed sort of waltz; _one-two-trip, one-two-stumble! Keep it up down the path!_ Thoughts of Delphine hum through her mind. It’s a vibrant mixture of music, memories, and dreams envisioned, all melding together and it nearly fries her brain.

 

_Wow. Of all people to hit me with their bike, it’s her._

 

Of course she’s not stupid. Getting smacked down by a sleek new Hawthorne wasn’t exactly part of her plan for the day, but at this point her killer-diller ‘plan’ is worth absolutely _zilch_. There’s just too much resonating in her skull for her to think clearly any further.

 

It’s a glorious day in the park, as she realized before, but even the splash of sun streaks across her cheeks that stream through whispering leaves aren’t enough to pull her away from the licks that swim through her consciousness. Practically all of those licks, of course, are Delphine-inspired, but as hard as Cosima tries to sweep them away, coax them out of her thought space, the more they encroach, cloud and swell, until all she can think of are the melodies that thicken her other processes.

 

It’s almost too much now.  

The best of licks typically catch her during jams, or when she’s in the shower.  Whenever she’s been particularly taken by an _extremely_ good lick, she’s usually been able to sing it out loud in series of scat tones. Ali winces each and every time she does that, and Sarah snorts gruffly, more out of delight at Ali’s expression and reaction than actual amusement, but Cosima simply giggles and continues singing no matter what.

_They haven’t stopped me yet, have they? I’m dragging in success for them, too! Lovely bastards._

 

But as she strolls down the cobble path with her maw cracked wide open and singing her tunes loud and proud, the melodies refuse to budge from their comfortable new lodging smack dab in the middle of her brain. It’s interrupting her flow. As much as she desires Delphine, she just can’t put up with that all day.

 

Cosima practically runs home, zipping down the sidewalk with her slightly oversized trousers flapping around her ankles – _Shit, shoulda got Ali to tailor these when I got ‘em_ – and her oxfords pounding against the pavement. She stumbles up the front steps with the tips of her toes catching on the individual ledges, scuffing the once-smooth leather on her feet, and barges through the obnoxiously colorful front door.

 

The intoxicating smell of bacon wafts through the air of the front hall, and momentarily, Cosima’s distracted in her quest to get to the piano and her horn to release the music distracting her. She slows and wanders into the kitchen, her urgency now mostly evaporated for the sake of bacon. The lick floats somewhere near the back left of her skull, close to her ear, and she can still feel its charm haunting her eardrum, lacing itself gold and silver in every thought that hums through her brain.

 

Sarah, Felix, and Ali sit at the table, leaning casually back in their chairs and munching on breakfast, although it’s lunchtime more than anything. Cosima must look slightly dazed because they all stare at each other, save for Felix, who leans back in his chair with a smug grin after glancing over at Sarah. “So Cosima,” he says, staring her down with a curling grin, “So _dyke_ , how was your walk?”

 

“Do _not_ call me that, Felix. That’s rude and uncalled for, and you’ve got no rights to use that term, ya flamin’ homo. You of all people should know I swing more than just one way.” she interjects with a furious glare. He raises his hands in apologetic defeat, and asks again.

 

“Sorry. How was your walk, darling?”

 

“It was, uhm, fine. I’m in one piece, as you can well see. Ran into a friend, you know that sort of matter. Why do you ask?” Cosima cocks her head to one side, hair flopping loosely out of its wild ponytail. Her anger evaporates quickly as all save for Sarah straighten up in their seats, shifting into a feeling of apprehension.

 

“Oh, we do know,” says Sarah. She grins widely in a smile that is too reminiscent of a hazy Cheshire Cat as the smoke from her cigar curls lazily around her face. “How is Delphine doing, mmm?”

 

Cosima flushes a brilliant crimson and _Ali_ of all people giggles. “Cosima, I think you forget that the park is not only down the street, but our window looks directly out onto that park, or at least a part of it. Also, your speaking voice is much louder than you might think.” She shifts in her seat, adjusting her new dress from under her in a wiggling shuffle. Cosima mentally debates how to approach this.

 

She doesn’t want to go quickly with something that might not be anything – _the tragic, time-old tale of getting involved with heterosexual gals, one you know too well huh Cosi?_ – but then again, they’re already aware and smirking about it. Their cheeks push up tired eyes, but it’s not just a tooth and lip smile; the crinkling of sweet affection around the edges tells Cosima their eyes are smiling kindly too, and it’s all totally in juxtaposition to their sarcasm but she can tell they do love her.

 

“Delphine is keen, we just… ran into each other. I mean, of course she’s _fine_ , if ya know what I mean. And, erm, actually, it’s kinda more as if _she_ ran into _me_ , than _I_ ran into _her_ , but you get the picture. She’s a musical genius, too.” She sighs dreamily, starry-eyed in her _Delphine-jazz_ haze.

 

Sarah’s been slouched for the entirety of her time talking, but that’s a usual thing for her. What’s odd is her lack of interjections. Cosima knows Sarah’s not all that fond of Delphine- or at least her combo, half of whom used to be Sarah’s original group before Cosima roped her in. It isn’t Delphine’s fault, but Sarah is Sarah, and there isn’t a whole lot Cosima can honestly do about it. For someone as reckless as she can be, Sarah is _right_ too often for Cosima to want to hear it.

 

Cosima shies away from her intense gaze, and as soon as she does look away, Sarah rolls her shoulders and speaks up. “Yeah Cosi, we already knew that. Thank you for your eloquent words. What else about seeing Delphine today, hmm?” Cosima levels her line of sight back to Sarah and meets her eyes, determined to stand her ground this time around.

 

“Anyways,” she says, “she invited me to jam with her. Ya know, return the invitation I offered first. Whaddya guys think of having a jam this weekend?”

 

“Don’t we have a gig or somethin’?” Sarah pipes up again, gruff voice grating against softly spoken words. She crosses her arms and continues to glare out, smoky eyes shooting sparks of defiance that would have easily lit a cigarette had Cosima been smoking. Thankfully Sarah’s cigar is already lit and stuck between her teeth, but the atmosphere is far from incombustible in their apartment.

 

Cosima feels no need to be a pyromaniac today.

 

“Mmm, yeah, but it’s just the one on Friday night and then we’re golden for the rest of the weekend,” Felix sighs, rubbing at his eyes daintily, careful not to smudge his precise makeup.

 

“Good enough for me! Hey, let’s make it Saturday night or evening, okay guys?” Cosima claps excitedly, and everyone else flinches. It’s a common occurrence, but at least her normally flighty hands are stilled and she hasn’t broken anything yet. She glances down from where she’s standing to see Felix lunge for a plate, barely scooping it up before it shatters into fragments – _like your heart with straight girls, yeah Cosi?_ – on the stained hardwood floor.

 

Close enough.

 

“We are _not_ all men here, thank you very much. Also, hay is for horses, Cosima, please attempt to be civil. But I’m willing to participate in a jam session this weekend.” Ali clasps her hands in her lap primly, folding them so her fingers interlace over-under-around each other. Sarah snorts, and Ali’s careful composure breaks just for a moment; a light giggle escapes from the trap of her mouth, but she pulls the rest back in, pursing her lips tightly and clearing her throat.

 

Both Cosima and Felix roll their eyes in practiced unison, and they’re left unphased. “Yeah, _mom_ , I gotcha. Alright, I’m gonna go and work something out, so I’ll see all of ya later on!” Cosima snaps her fingers in time to the rhythm of her words, and bounces out of the room with a wave, a small smile, and an enormous skip in her step.

 

She’s already refreshed and although the thoughts of Delphine and _that_ lick have once again come pounding back on her front door demanding immediate entrance, Cosima’s ready to take them on now. Almost everything is in place now for Cosima to coax them all out into gleaming-smooth melodies, shape them carefully, purely, and finely engrave them with her signature jive.

 

She can do this.

 

_A breath in for 4, exhale for 8. Keep going, dude._

 

A step over to the edge of their rehearsal zone, a jump forward to where her trusty horn waits patiently, leaning against their worn out upright, and a snap of her fingers flicks the latches open. The lid of the case tumbles open, and everything comes rolling out in undulating waves, grabbing her by the chops and pulling her under.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	4. Lush Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giggin' at Bobby's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY THANKS TO SUNDIALSANDSMILES FOR BETAING.

She’s been drifting in and out of consciousness for a little while now, fading in gentle gradients that shimmer and ease out in kaleidoscopic shifts. Sleeping is getting harder and harder each night when all she seems to be able to think about is _her_.

 

_Delphine, Delphine, Delphine._

 

She floats easily into Cosima’s waking hours and fails to dissipate in her dreams. Cosima has spent too many hours thinking and wishing. Sticky-sugar nights sweeter than honey spent curled up thick in her bed, doing things with themes vulgar enough to flush her a brilliant tomato-plum color that ripens with each passing day when it comes back into mind. Ali would blow a fuse and sit her down to bust her chops if she found out, while Sarah and Felix would snort obnoxiously in the next room over as she chewed Cosima out.

The cheeky bastards.

 

It would be far more amusing if she didn’t feel attraction and affection drawing thick in her lungs, coating and clotting with a heavy sort of weight. It often sinks in further, deep into the pit of her stomach, but she tries not to think of it too often, lest it creep back up and out through her throat. The afternoon is filled with a dense sort of exhaustion; not the kind that sweeps her off her feet and into dreamland like the smooth easy swing of a practiced boxer, but rather like being pulled under by the tide, rolling and rollicking and drowning in rough thrashes of submergence and resurfacing. She wishes she could say she’s been getting used to it, but that would be a total lie.

 

She’s completely beat, but with a groan she rolls out of bed from her nap and _thumps_ lightly on the wooden floor, padding across her room and changing into her gigging clothes. Her shirt is precisely tailored and starched, thanks to Ali’s handiwork, with immaculately polished cufflinks, suspenders looped tightly around her belt, shoes perfectly polished, and her horn-rimmed spectacles rest at a quirked angle on her nose. She adjusts them with the tip of her middle finger and wipes a mysterious smudge off the left lens. Grinning at her reflection satisfactorily, she wanders around gathering her things in preparation for tonight’s gig. A gig book filled with personal transcriptions, a bound sheaf of staff paper, four freshly sharpened pencils and two pens all get shoved into her bag.

 

Finally ready to go, she swings out the front door and bops along in the cool twilight hours, once again singing that lick from earlier that she’s now coined ‘Frenchie’ – _After Delphine, of course. That’s pretty sound reasonin’, right?_ – and walks away from the park, towards Bobby’s.

 

Bobby’s downtown is new, swanky, and packed full of soldiers returning from The War. Every night, without fail, she sees streams of drunken swaggering men and women attempting to outrun their memories of the war through ingestion of far too much alcohol, but Cosima doesn’t blame them. Some memories need several tries to be drowned out by a bitter tang, things that are even more astringent than the liquid that flows easily down their gullets.

 

Cosima knew that sensation from long ago, when she had her first downfall a little before the middle of The War. She had been doing _really_ well for quite a while; got some swell gigs that paid her well, and had a steady income from the big band she played several sets with as lead tenor over the weekends.  It didn’t last, though, as much as she had wished it had; she stopped getting gigs, and the once-successful big band moved to new leadership under a misogynistic bastard who had immediately kicked her out and took her spot – _He wasn’t even better, that Leekie asshole. He just had a lotta cash, and the power to get what he fuckin’ wanted_ – and she had quickly spiraled downhill from there.

 

Cosima had pulled herself back on her feet, into the game and jiving properly again, but she still prepares and hopes for the best every day.

_A gal can only hope, right?_

 

It’s a simple hop, skip, and a jump away from their place, so Cosima gets there in a snap. Ali and Sarah are already there setting up. Sarah is perched birdlike on a stool, nimble fingers dancing around the neck as she runs through a few quick tunes and checks her tuning. Ali’s sitting with her legs unusually wide, and Cosima watches in childlike joy as she twists a quarter and a half turn with her drum key, ensuring the snare is perfect against her tom’s thrum. Felix is leaning against the wall, chatting up a sweet-faced buck-toothed boy already, and Cosima grins even wider while turning back and thumping her case down.

 

A flick of her thumbs against the cool metal of the latches securing her case, and she’s soon done setting up, moving on to blowing her horn a bit before they begin.

Her fingers roll down the keys, swinging up and down smoothly as her tongue flicks in precise articulation against the reed, careful to be exact in her movement. Each movement and action is definite in its motion; if she’s going be the best she can be, she’s got to make sure perfection starts with her foundations.

 

A quick wolf-whistle from Sarah and a nod from Ali later, and they’re starting. Cosima waves her arms above her head for a solid minute until she finally gives up and snaps her fingers at the mic. It whines for a split second at Cosima’s abuse, but it gains the attention of the entire room, already filled to the point where people trickle out of the seams, drifting in tight clusters through the large area and out the doors. More people stream in with each passing second, and they’re all wide-eyed and slackjawed.

 

“Hey all of ya! I’m Cosima Niehaus – that’s Cosi t’ all of you – and this is Sarah Manning on upright bass, and Ali Hendrix on kit. We’re going to start off with a coupla tunes, and uh, if any of you all out there are an extremely competent pianist, we kinda need one. We mighta ditched ours at home tonight.” The audience rumbles with a light wave of laughter, but Sarah winces and mutters angrily. Cosima ignores her and plows on. “Anywho, for starters we’ve got Groovin’ High! Enjoy, folks!”

 

Once again, everything narrows into a razor focus. The melodies wind around her, and she pulls, stretches, _pushes_. They fold under her gentle pressure, and the room gilds itself Technicolor and gold with the sounds.

 

There’s something pure and magical to Cosima about people making music together- when all the right things line up in stellar alignment to form just the right chord that makes her heart _sing_ , when the electric excitement steaming from the crowd soaks into them in soothing waves, it sets her on _fire_. Everything seems to jump into her throat and her fingers at the same time, and both flex in creation of weaving, winding melodies that spin tales far greater than Cosima could have ever told by word of mouth. She’s been told many a time that she is a wonderful storyteller, but she’s never felt the same; for her, stories were better loved through music. One could interpret the story and tell it themselves, just by the mere act of _listening_. The simplicity of it all amazes Cosima to no end, pushing her further to love, just _love._

 

Somehow, the set is half over already when she finally comes back to herself fully and re-emerges from her dreamy world. They break for a quick intermission, announcing their return in ‘just fifteen minutes, we swear!’ A familiar blondie struts up to the stage, tapping Cosima on the shin from where she’s been slouching with all of her weight heavy on her left while checking out of her brain, and she starts with a jolt. Once she realizes who it is, Cosima smiles widely, waving with one hand while her other hugs her tenor close to her body, careful not to scrape the mouthpiece and reed against her chin accidentally in fear of chipping the precious golden stick of cane.

 

“Oh my goodness Delphine, please don’t scare me like that! Wait, Delphine, is that really you?” Delphine giggles, bringing a hand up to her mouth in genial courtesy.

“Yes, Cosima, it is me in the flesh and skin. Do you know any other Delphine’s? Anyone else you might have your eyes set on to jam with?”

 

“I… think you might mean ‘flesh and bones’, but no, I sadly don’t! Thankfully I know you, love. Speaking of jammin’, ya do realize the jam is _tomorrow_ night, right?” Delphine laughs full out at that, folding in two with a bright guffaw that bubbles out unexpectedly, and Cosima finds herself grinning even bigger now.  

 

“I do realize! Thank you for checking, though. I simply came to see you play tonight, but it seems you need a pianist? I am willing to play, if you let me call at least one song tonight. Sounds fair, yes?” Delphine spreads her hands in proposal with a small smile, fully recovered from her bout of humor. Cosima can’t help but giggle and nods vigorously at her.

 

“I’m in for it, and I’m sure the others won’t mind havin’ a wonderful pianist like you sitting in for a spell. What were you thinking of calling, though?” Delphine’s grin grows wickedly, and _oh!_ Cosima is being sucked even further in, a wave of attraction and arousal jumbling together down her spine and down, down, down it goes, tingling in a way that is not all that unpleasant at _all_.

 

“What do you say to Salt Peanuts?” Her excitement spreads like a wildfire then, coiling out into her marrow and burrowing deep into the anxious chambers of her blood-red heart.

 

“A bebop babe! Really, a girl after my own heart. Let’s do it.” She offers a hand up to Delphine, who plants a heeled foot onto the edge of the stage and swings up with her assistance. Delphine seats herself on the rickety old upright, and it snuffles under her slight weight.  Cosima watches in awe as Delphine tests it out, gets a feeling for the vibe of the piano, dances her fingers over the ivory in trickles of sound that seep out and quiet the room some. Most people glance over, curious to see the newcomer take the stage with the house band, and she can plainly see the surprise in their eyes at the gorgeous woman perched up there, producing incredible and complex melodies with the simplest air about her.

 

Ali and Sarah return from their break and raise their eyebrows collectively at Cosima, but say nothing collectively. It’s obvious to her that they’ve chosen to roll with it for the time being, but words will be exchanged in the future, most of which will be spat from Sarah’s bitter mouth. A casual shrug to ease the tension from her sore shoulders and a kind smile that extends to her eyes is directed at Delphine. She returns it sweetly, just as genuinely in kind, and they all begin together.

 

_Salt Peanuts_ resonates and bounces around the room, and Cosima is incredibly pleased that they function together so fluidly; she had been anxious for Saturday night to come all week, but judging by the way she, Delphine, Ali and Sarah play off of each other with the most extreme ease is truly amazing. Cosima has _never_ played so easily with someone new before. The pure joy of it all kindles something anew low in her torso, something bright and hopeful and chock-full of good cheer.

 

Honestly, she isn’t quite sure what it might be, but from what Cosima can deduce from its nature, it has to be something good. She’s just sure of it- _too sure, perhaps_ – but this feeling hasn’t stopped her before, and she clings to the idea of it never halting her passions, never nipping anything in the bud before its time.

 

The night is over too soon. The now tipsy-tired crowd stumbles out onto the sidewalk, and they’re left packing up alone in the massive hall. Ali and Sarah jet out as quickly as they can, eager to get home to a solid night of rest before the jam. Cosima finishes wiping down her tenor, her baby, and slides the reed back into its casing, careful to ensure that it won’t be damaged in the twenty minutes time it will take her to get home. Delphine sidles up her left, coy with an expression Cosima can’t quite place, but she’s barely still awake at this point in the night, so she’s hardly a good judge. She latches the case shut with a double round of _click!_ ’s, and stands up to stretch, as well as bid Delphine farewell.

 

It’s just the two of them, facing off in a way that feels more like a leadup to something than just two acquaintances, two _friends_ saying goodnight to each other. Delphine leans in, closer and closer (Cosima is so far gone now, especially in her delirious state) and places a gentle kiss on each cheek. She smiles for a beat, a gloriously brilliant ray of sunshine that ignites a flash of heat warmer than anything Cosima’s ever felt before, and strolls out of the building with her hips sashaying back and forth.

 

Cosima reaches up to her face in a daze, even more clouded than before. When she touches the points where Delphine’s lips touched – _her lips, wow Cosi. Wow._ – they burn in tingling ellipses, circling about in a nervous but warm embrace of the contact area. It’s incredible she’s still on her feet. Before, she might have thought that even the thought of Delphine touching her before would knock her down, count her in for a solid KO, but here she is, barely upright and grinning lazily like a fool.

 

From there, she barely makes it back home and to her bed, but from her bed, her thoughts vary, but she snaps back into reality when her hand slithers down her toned body, down farther to where it aches more than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are greatly appreciated, and I hope that people enjoy this as much as I love writing it!


	5. Since I Fell For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jam session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a huge thank you to [ sundialsandsmiles on tumblr ](http://www.sundialsandsmiles.tumblr.com) for betaing!
> 
> If you haven't figured it out yet, or you're new- every chapter is the title of a jazz standard. Highly recommend listening to the tunes in the titles as well as throughout the fic!

Dawn cracks over Cosima’s head like the satisfying snap of an egg, the break of day painted over the sky in streaks of yolk and blood red. She’s floating in her own thoughts, ethereal against the colors of the morning sky.

 

 _Red at night, sailor’s delight. Red in morning, sailor’s warning._ Cosima chuckles soberly to herself at the quip and the memories that suddenly dredge themselves up. It’s only been so long since the war ended, but Cosima worries about a few of her friends that still have yet to come home.

 

She hadn't had to go into working on the assembly lines, but Ali had. When Beth left for the WAVES, Ali was stoic, dull eyed and crumbling inside. She went straight to apply for work the next day, claiming it was for the servicemen out there, but they all knew why. Beth warned her against applying for the service, knowing as resilient as she might be, they would strip her bird bones raw, wash out the stellar brightness of her eyes.

 

So Cosima and Sarah played gigs for the soldiers, traveling until the thousand yard stares became too much. For her, it was too much like the way that people stared through her, through her protective bravado.

 

It hadn't been a _bad_ way to live, but the world changed so much after people started coming home.

Cosima remembers them huddling around the only radio set they had at 6 o'clock sharp, soon after pulling out playing gigs for The Navy. Banged up chairs packed tight together around the pockmarked table, hoping any day then that the war would be over, that they could carry on without more people dying for their countries. When it finally came, a roar echoed over the neighborhood, erupting in the streets.

 

They all cried then, but for their own reasons.

 

She’s up earlier than she has ever been for as long as she can remember, sitting on the edge of the windowsill with her legs dangling out, kicking against the exterior of their home. It’s a peculiar sight, a queer sort of girl barely wearing anything and sitting out on the window, smoking a shitty joint, but it’s early enough that she doesn’t particularly care. On the plus side, there’s barely anyone around to actually see her, so she’s confident that it’s pretty much okay.

 

From her perch on the windowsill, sitting birdlike on the edge, she can see the expanse of crackling auburn foliage coating the ground, dangling from the now-sparse oaks that scatter the winding pathways of the park. Her eyes follow the sidewalk down, down.

 

Their yard is somehow totally clean - _That’s most_ definitely _Ali’s doing, then_ \- and the gate no longer squeaks, and even though it’s out of sight, Cosima thinks fondly of their vibrant front door and the care that went into it. The neighbors complain about the garish colors all the time, but both Cosima and Sarah are too fond of how much it annoys them. Before, when they had first barely scraped together enough to take out a loan for the house, the door had been a putrid yellow. It was _awful_ against the wood shingled sides and the Craftsman style design of their home.

 

Chances are, it’ll probably be there until they all die.

 

\---

 

Dawn comes and goes in the blink of an eye, fading into a crisp, clear blue sky that holds the promise of warmth later on. She’s still sitting there when the sun is high in the sky and beating down golden, and realizes once again that she is _late_. It only takes a quick glance at her wristwatch, also adorned with the caricature hands of Mickey Mouse like her bedside clock, to see that she had fallen back into her own headspace. Cosima is absolutely _late_.

 

She scrambles to get off of the windowsill, but tumbles backward instead. Cosima lands with a crash on the floor..

 

_Aw, shit. That's gonna leave a bruise._

 

It takes a moment for her to get up from the floor, but she lies there for a moment, cursing like a sailor. When she finally gets up, it only takes her a second to stumble into a pair of pants and pull a loose shirt on and tuck it in. She calls out _,_ just to see if anyone else is home to complain to. No response comes, and she cusses harder.

 

_Damn!_

 

Even in her haste to leave, Cosima manages to swipe on her signature makeup and horn-rimmed glasses. It only takes five more minutes to gather her gig bag and trot down the streets to the large community hall they badgered Tony into letting them use for the day.

 

She skids in through the door, nearly falling over at the speed she's going. She only stays upright because someone grabs her arm and she looks up to find Beth,, holding a trumpet in one hand and her wrist in the other.

 

“Where do ya think you’re going, hmm?” Beth teases, eyes crinkling in amusement. Cosima opts to not answer her, but instead slings her arms around Beth and pulls her into a bear hug, dropping her gear on the floor with a bright clatter.

 

“It is so wonderful to see you again,” Cosima says into her neck, muffled by skin. “Didn’t really know if you’d come back again, y’know? War and all that. Military kills, I’m sure you’re aware. Anything I should know that happened since you been gone?”

 

Beth cringes and stiffens a little but hugs Cosima tighter. “Mmm, that’s above my pay grade. If I had my druthers, we wouldn’t even hafta worry about each other like this. As long as you’re all good, and Ali’s all good, I’m okay. Promise.” She says it softly, gently, but Cosima can tell from her tone of voice that there's something raw and still-healing under the surface. She gives one last squeeze and they let each other go.

 

Cosima bends down to gather her things, and skips into the hall with Beth in tow. The jangle of different strands of music moving against each other soothes Cosima’s soul, and puts her anxiety at ease. When they enter the hall, Sarah crows and makes to move towards Beth, but a blurred flutter moves by Cosima at hyper speed, almost knocking her over again, and in an instant both Ali and Beth are on the floor. Everyone else is doubled over in laughter at the sight, but the two are too involved in each other to care.

 

Over in the corner of her eye, Cosima catches Delphine sitting with shoulders tense and rigid at her piano smiling wanly with no recognition of Beth in her eyes. Rachel is staring her down, determined to intimidate her before they even start and the most apparent reason for Delphine’s tension clicks for Cosima. She rolls her eyes at Rachel, jerking her thumb towards where Sarah’s bass leans against the floor. Rachel scowls, but moves towards where Sarah’s gear is set up with her heels clicking primly against the floor.

 

_What a prude, jeez._

 

She leans over and whispers, “Don’t mind her. She’s more bark than bite, trust me. ‘Sides, you’ve nothing to worry about; her skills are _nothing_ compared to what you’ve got.”

 

Cosima sticks her tongue out at Rachel’s turned back, and then turns her attention to Delphine, who gives her a warmer smile and heaves out the breath she had been holding.

 

“Thank you, Cosima. She was becoming too much. I’m glad you’re here now, though, it is nice to have at least one familiar, welcoming face aside from Rachel Duncan.  Oh! But not that hers is welcoming- only familiar. I often receive vague and empty threats from her, we have this peculiar sort of rivalry. I am not sure why. It is not really a rivalry when the other cannot compete with you.” Delphine shrugs her shoulders and sighs again with a defensive sort of smile that bares all of her teeth.

 

A shiver runs down Cosima’s spine, and she grins wolfishly back. “Well, I’m here now, and certainly glad of it. All in one piece too, and only about twenty minutes late! Not too shabby, I think.” Delphine is trying to suppress her laughter, giggles bubbling out of her lips. “No, stop that! Honest to goodness, that isn’t too bad for me. It’s actually closer to a personal best for me, really.” Delphine only laughs harder, and Cosima cheerfully laughs along with her.

 

“By the way, I’m really pleased you came today. You’re great, and your playing is real swell.”

 

Delphine smiles back, lighter than before. She blushes and continues chatting. 

 

\---

 

It’s quarter past eleven when they finally start to get serious about playing again. Cosima runs scales and long tones, fluttering bursts of whole tones and enharmonics drifting out among the sound of everyone warming up at once. Rachel sits against the wall, talking with entirely too much enunciation to Felix, who looks deeply uncomfortable. It only takes a quick glance around for Cosima to realize that they’re all waiting for her to take the lead.

 

_Guess since I’m the one who called the jam, I actually hafta lead it this time._

 

She claps her hands a few times and whistles piercingly until Beth and Sarah both roll their eyes at her, and _then_ Cosima knows it’s time to start.

 

“Uh, hey gals. And Felix too, I suppose.” He gives a little wave of his fingers from where he’s standing, looking utterly bored while talking to Rachel.

 

“It’s been awhile since I saw some of you, but it’s wonderful to have you back, Beth. I’m also delighted to have you here with us, Delphine, we’re going to sound great today with you."

 

Beth fiddles with her trumpet, clears her throat and wiggles her eyebrows, and the underlying meaning isn’t lost on Cosima. She rolls her eyes and continues on.

 

“Yeah yeah, okay. Oh! Delphine, this is Beth, trumpet ace, ace in general, yunno?” Delphine blinks quickly for a moment, then smiles radiantly and gives a double thumbs-up back at both of them. Cosima beams back at her, and Beth coughs.

 

"Got it. Anyways,” she says, pulling a crumpled sheaf of paper that must be at least fifty pages and begins gesturing. Papers flutter to the ground, drifting around her shins as she starts rambling, and an audible groan echoes around the room. It’s apparent every single person in the room has suffered through this ordeal before. Delphine only looks mildly confused, but more amused than anything else. “ _Anyways_ , I put together this little arrangement thing to read over, and I was thinking we could take it at a different sort of-“ Ali interrupts, exasperated already.

 

“Cosi- _COSI!_ ” she says a little more forcefully, attempting to catch the runaway train wreck Cosima is rolling on. “Can we warm up? Something simple? A blues, please?” Sarah grunts in agreement around the cigar she’s _already_ smoking. Cosima looks at Delphine for help and support, but she’s already accepted the offered cigarette from Sarah, who’s lighting it with a devilish grin. Delphine shrugs, trying hard not to smile too hard around the cigarette between her lips, and the cigarette bobs with her movement.

 

“How about _Now’s the Time_ , okay Cosi?” Beth finally pipes up with a tune, and Ali looks at her gratefully. A defeated sigh later from Cosima and one attempt at a retort, and Ali is counting off a quick tempo. Her brushes play against the snare drum as Cosima and Beth beat out the head, snappy and precise with their melody. It skitters happily along, up and winding through the rhythmic lines. Bebop blues in one of the easiest keys, B flat. Cosima could play the blues all day, all year. There’s something about its pure simplicity that makes Cosima nostalgic, makes her heart sing when Delphine plays something just _right_ against a little lick someone else plays.

 

She’s almost perfect.

 

Cosima is so involved in the music she can’t think straight - not that she could before, but now it makes a difference- and the emotions layered in the music seeps in faster than the beat bouncing in an uptempo rhythm. All in all, it’s starting to get overwhelming and Cosima’s solo ends up being a beautiful, beautiful mess.

 

When she jolts in after Beth’s solo, perfection even after so long of not playing, it’s a total mess of sixteenth notes that whip out faster than she even realizes that they’re coming, and that’s only the first three bars. It finally evens out when she calms herself down and closes her eyes. Everything aligns, and the next twenty-one bars ends up being arguably the best improvised solo she’s ever played. She passes it on to Delphine by lifting her sax towards her, and opening her eyes back up again.

 

The world is fuzzy for a moment until she blinks, but when it comes back into focus everything is razor sharp. All around there are massive smiles, and everyone _knows_ how good that was, even as simple as it might have been in parts. Even Rachel has a dreamy sort of look in her eyes, but not a whole lot else changes in her expression, but it’s still _something_ to Cosima.

 

Delphine smiles over the top of the piano, a brief glance up from soloing and something burbles in the pit of Cosima’s stomach. It threatens to rise up into her throat, to voice something she’s not sure she’s ready to say, or that Delphine would ever be ready to hear. She pushes the sensation, whatever it might be, back down. It growls and fights her, but waits for a better moment.

 

 _Good. Stay down. Fuck you, I’ll do it when_ I’m ready. _Not now. We’re fuckin’ playing._

 

The song ends after a round of solos for all of them, closing out with the head once again and Cosima feels light and airy, like she could tackle the world and cure polio and end wars and suffering and poverty all at once. All of her work, years of slaving away at her craft click under her hands, her fingers, her brain, and it sweeps her off her feet.

 

Cosima ends up sitting cross legged on the floor, completely dazed. Her horn is safe, cradled gently in her lap. Delphine looks the most concerned and is standing, Beth and Alison right behind her, but Sarah’s already crouching by her side, offering her a hand up.

 

“Hey there, doll. Wanna play another song, or ya wanna stare off into space forever or wha’? I haven’t all day, get off yer bum and let’s _go._ You okay? You ready for this, Cosi?” Sarah laughs gently, somehow forming it around the cigar that smolders in her mouth like words burning through Cosima’s consciousness, and Cosima takes the offered hand and pops right back up.

 

“I’m absolutely stupendous. Phenomenal, in fact. Say, gals, how about we go and try that arrangement I put together?”

 

There’s a collective groan around the room from her friends, but Delphine is bent double in laughter.

 

“No way in hell is that happening, Cosi,” Beth says.

 

“How about _I Got Rhythm_ , or _Like Someone In Love_?” Delphine calls out, lilting over the collective chatter rising up in the room. The relieved murmur of agreement answers, and Cosima rolls her eyes playfully.

 

“Fine, fine, _Like Someone in Love_ sounds good,” Cosima agrees begrudgingly.

 

“ _But,_ what if we-“

 

Ali starts counting in order to cut her off, and Cosima is so much more pleased than she could have ever imagined from calling this jam.

 

~

 

It's four in the afternoon when they finally wrap it all up, the sky streaked purple blue bruises. Tony is _pissed_ they ran so far overtime, but Beth tides him over with a promise of a meal and drinks. He mutters and curses jokingly under his breath and accepts her offer for a later time.

 

Rachel catches Cosima by the arm before she can exit the hall. She waves a concerned looking Delphine onward.

 

"Hey, don't worry about me. I'll catch up, you go on ahead with everyone else." She winks lightheartedly, and Delphine doesn't look any less worried, but backs up a few steps and timidly walks along with Ali and Beth.

 

“Hello Cosima,” Rachel begins, but Cosima cuts her off.

 

“Look, Rachel, if this is because we haven’t been calling you back for gigs, I’m sorry, but you’re not for us as a whole, sorry. You’re really just kind of a-“ Rachel stops her by raising a hand and turning to face her head on. Cosima can usually _smell_ the ice cold bitch radiating off of Rachel, but since they stepped into the hall, she hasn’t noticed anything unusual at all until this point. Rachel’s presence feels almost like a normal person’s to Cosima in the moment, and Cosima becomes concerned extremely quickly.

 

“I just wanted to say that your playing was impeccable. That is all. I’ll be off now. If in the future I might have the opportunity to play with you again, please notify me. Best to you, Cosima Niehaus,” she says, voice carefully modulated as she walks off, but Cosima can hear the smile that never shows in her tone. It sets her on edge a little, but she shakes it off.

 

“You too, Rachel,” she calls back. Like the moment when flame becomes fire, when a falling leaf is caught midair, when a kite is swept by the wind up into the wide open sky, something resolves in her. Grinning, Cosima turns and starts to run. She sprints down the sidewalk with the heels of her oxfords clacking against the cement, easily catching up to the group even with her gig bag and saxophone flapping against her sides as she runs.

 

Cosima links arms with Delphine as they walk on down the sidewalk, both of them giggling almost uncontrollably. Neither is sure why they’re laughing, but it feels delicious after the jam. Bright peals of laughter burst from them and float along in a lovely haze beside them.

Cosima is so enamored she could practically kiss Delphine.

 

So she does.

 

It’s a rather quick action, one kiss on the apple of Delphine’s cheek. It’s such a swift motion that it would practically be platonic in a passerby’s eyes.

 

Delphine almost stops in her tracks, but keeps moving, her stride unbroke. The smile on her face does not fade at all, but instead grows bigger, better. Cosima almost kisses her square on the mouth at that sight. She feels her heart swell in her chest with an emotion almost like anxiety, but far sweeter and far more potent than anxiety tastes.

 

There are several things Cosima wants to blurt out, all of them at once, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t say, _I think I could fall in love with you_ , or, _What are you doing to me?_ , or, _What are we really doing here?_ , like she could if they were two normal people courting each other.

 

Like they were woman and man, heterosexuals, making their way through the world and tearing up the jazz scene together.

 

Instead, she takes her chances.

“ ‘Member that conversation we had a while ago, about whether I was maybe queer, maybe not?”

 

Delphine bobs her head once, and raises an eyebrow, prompting her to continue.

 

“Delphine, I’m violets for ya. Do you wanna go dancing with me? Like, maybe tomorrow night?” Cosima chuckles nervously as she finishes asking, and waits with bated breath for Delphine’s response.

 

Her eyebrows crease adorably, trying to unwrap the expression’s meaning. She can see Delphine mulling it over, turning it around and around like one would eat a piece of hard candy, sucking on the question until the core is revealed, and then-           

 

“Yes, of course. Why haven’t you asked sooner?”

 

Cosima’s jaw drops, and she stands there agape for a few moments until she pulls it together.

 

“I mean, it’s really because I thought you wouldn’t appreciate me making a move or - you know, whatever it is that holds people back from being shunned by society for loving a little different than everyone else. You knew. You knew that I’m queer, and that’s dangerous. People know and it ain’t classified, okay, that much is clear- but it doesn’t make me any safer or people any more comfortable with who I am. It’s bad enough I’m a girl, a female jazz musician, but a _queer_ too? The fact that _you_ , the iridescent Delphine Cormier, would even come within a ten foot range is _crazy_. What else was I supposed to do besides wait it out, make a pass at you? Walk up, cool as a cucumber, and say, ‘Hey sugar, are ya rationed’?

 

Delphine giggles gently, and Cosima smiles self-deprecatingly.

 

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

 

They drop into silence. Cosima fidgets, shuffling back and forth on her feet as Delphine thinks through her response. She tries to look everywhere but at Delphine, trying not to stare too much. She feels a little lighter for having gotten it off her shoulders, but the length of time Delphine is taking to process is making her anxious. Sarah and the gang are far ahead now, chatting and waiting on the corner two blocks up.

 

“Cosima,” Delphine says, and she snaps back into the present.

 

“I would like to see where this goes. It has been so wonderful to meet someone who gets it. Who gets me. I cannot make any promises to you now, not at this moment in time, but I would be delighted to go dancing with you tomorrow night. At Bobby’s, yes?”

 

Cosima is absolutely _sunk_. Maybe it’s the genial acceptance that gets her, maybe it’s the accent- either way, Delphine is trouble and she _loves it_.

 

“Yes! Oh my god, yes. I’ll meet you there, is six o’clock okay?”

 

“Lovely. I have to go now, but I shall see you then.”

She steps in close to Cosima, light and graceful, brushing her lips against Cosima’s, and then backs out.

 

“ _Au revoir_ , Cosima. I am looking forward to dancing with you.”

 

Cosima is still struck by her brazen move. She’s barely able to stammer out, “Bye. Same to you,” with a faint chuckle.

 

It takes a moment for her to realize what just happened, but once she does, she turns on her heel and runs, faster and faster, heels clicking against the sidewalk, until she’s panting and hunched over with her hands on her knees. Once again, she’s back with her family.

 

Sarah nudges her in the ribs, and says not-unkindly,

 

“Christ, Cosi- what took ya so long?”

 

Cosima shoves her back, but pulls her in for a tight hug.

 

“Aw man, Sarah, shut it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting my playlist for this fic on my [ tumblr @hellacophine ](http://hellacophine.tumblr.com/tagged/jazz%20au), which will include my favorite versions of mentioned songs as well as ones I feel set the mood well. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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